


D O L L H O U S E (Smile Child)

by LittleMissLiesmith



Series: The Better The Lives We Lead [6]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Gen, OCs - Freeform, author is a fangirl of a fictional musician, other people's ocs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 05:26:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2456435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissLiesmith/pseuds/LittleMissLiesmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Vegas aren’t the only extensive family in town, and they certainly aren’t the most messed up,</p><p>Or,</p><p>Ciro Sorriso sees things that nobody else sees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	D O L L H O U S E (Smile Child)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sassmassacre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassmassacre/gifts), [JeffreyNeal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeffreyNeal/gifts).



_Places, places, get in your places_  
 _Throw on your dress and put on your doll faces_  
 _Everyone thinks that we’re perfect_  
 _Please don’t let them look through the curtains_  
 _Picture, picture, Smile for the picture_  
 _Pose with your brother, won’t you be a good sister?..._

-O-

Ciro was ten years old when they went to the first funeral they would be able to remember.

Everyone was dressed in white and pale yellow; the memorial books had gilded suns on the covers and the coffin was cream and gold.

Ciro sat in the corner and played guitar until Savio took them by the elbow and led them over. “You need to say goodbye to Father, Spot,” they said, frighteningly toneless. Their practically-glowing white suit was absolutely pristine; Ciro tugged at their own dirty yellow hoodie, wishing they had worn something less conspicuous.

They dragged their guitar in its case across the room behind them over to the coffin. Their father was laid out inside, hands folded over chest, eyes closed, grey hair neatly styled and pulled back. He was the only one in the room wearing any colour but white; rather, his suit was a deep red, almost black.

There were memories behind Ciro’s eyes—stories about their mother and how much she would have loved them, playing outside when he came out to carry them in, family dinners around the grand table discussing the events of the day, hiding with Ra on the staircase as he yelled at the older two about their grades, baking brownies at two in the morning because Risus had woken up and Ciro had a sugar craving and there wasn’t anything they couldn’t cancel in the morning. Memories bad and good alike, but for the most part, good.

“I—I’m going to be sick,” they muttered.

“No, Ciro,” Savio said. “You’re going to smile.”

Ciro obliged.

“It doesn’t reach your eyes.”

“Savio, Daddy’s _dead_.”

“Smile,” Savio instructed. “Cry later. Smile now.” The eighteen-year-old crouched down and put their hands on Ciro’s shoulders. “We need to look _perfect_ or they’ll take everything from us, understand? I’m not old enough to keep you without being absolutely perfect. If you don’t smile, they’re going to take you away. You need to act like everything’s fine.”

“It’s _not_.”

Savio pulled Ciro into a tight hug. “I know, kidlet. But it’s going to be okay. Somehow.” They rubbed circles into Ciro’s shoulders as the latter buried their face in their neck and cried quietly.

“From now on,” Savio murmured in Ciro’s ear, “I’ll be your father.”

-O-

_Four Years Later_

-O-

“October’s too late to be joining school.”

Risus shrugged. “I agree, Spot, but that’s how it is. I’m going to school too.”

“You started school in _September_. Why do I have to start _nooow_?”

“Because you were _supposed_ to start in September but decided instead to push the tutor in a lake and pretend you were still going to class.” Risus dumped a stack of pancakes onto a plate and slid it over to Ciro. “Last breakfast at home, Spot. Enjoy it while you can.”

Ciro groaned and thunked their head on the marble countertop. “I don’t even know where I’m going to school. Shouldn’t I know that?”

“Desert Bluffs Preparatory Academy,” Risus said, pouring orange juice and handing it over before beginning to make his own pancakes. “Boarding school in the next town over—Night Vale.”

“Anything I need to know about it?”

“They don’t like our family.”

“…great. Perfect.”

“You’ll be fine, they know us by the Strex named and you’re registered under Sorriso. You’ll be fine. Oh, and most of the Vegas go there.”

“Aw, _them?_ ” Ciro groaned. “I remember _them_.”

“Do you now.”

“They were at the funeral, some of them.”

Risus nodded. “Right. They’re still friendly with us in that kind of way, but the school itself doesn’t like us.”

“Why?”

“Well—remember that incident when you were four and we had to go visit Nonno and Nonni in New York?”

“Kinda. They made good bagels.”

“Right. That. That was because Smiles Industries kind of screwed up by them.” He shrugged. “I dunno the details, I wasn’t that much older than you. Like ten.”

“Didja forget your own age?” Ra asked as he skidded down the steps, leather satchel slung over his shoulder and textbook firmly in his grasp as he slid across the kitchen floor. “Hey, Spot. Ready for your first day of school?”

“Shut up,” Ciro muttered.

“I don’t think I will. _I’m_ not the one who pushed my tutor in the lake.” Ra ruffled Ciro’s hair. “So where’re you going?”

“Desert Bluffs Preparatory Academy.”

Ra’s hand froze tangled in Ciro’s locks, his eyes widening. “Wait—there? That’s the place, you’re sure?”

“Yup. Boarding school, hates the Industries.” Ciro groaned and poked at their pancakes with their fork. “Should be fun.”

Ra’s hand was lowered to his side and in a much more subdued tone he said “Risus, do you think this is such a good idea?”

“It was Savio’s idea and he’s registered under Ciro Sorriso, so there shouldn’t be a problem.”

Ra winced. “Yeah, but…still…seems like a bad call?”

Risus stared. “What’s got you all up in arms against this? It’s not that big a deal, Smiles.”

Smiles sighed. “Fine. Nevermind then. Just let Spot go to the school where they all hate him with a burning passion.”

Ciro whined. “ _Risuuuuus…_ ”

“I’d say take it up with Savio, but we need to leave in a few minutes for you to arrive in time to unpack before your class.” Risus glanced up at the clock reading 7:01. “Your stuff’s all in the car?”

“Packed it last night. Risus—“

“Smiles is just trying to scare you,” Risus said, “and he needs to _knock it the fuck off._ ” He scowled at Ra. “Don’t scare the Spot, they’re just a little Spot.”

“I’m not little!” Ciro protested.

“You’re littler than us,” Ra said.

“You’re two years older than me, don’t even go there.” Ciro stabbed at their pancakes, taking a bite and chewing violently. “I hate both of you,” they said, voice garbled.

Risus smiled wide. Ra appeared to be trying to, but it was quickly replaced by a frown. “Risus, I don’t like this.”

Risus sighed. “If you can provide a solid reason—it doesn’t even have to be a good reason—why Spot shouldn’t go to school, then I’ll have Savio enroll him somewhere else. If you can’t, _zip it_.”

Ra appeared about to say something, thought better of it, and zipped it.

Ciro finished their pancakes and stood. “Do I get to say goodbye to Savio?”

“Sure. They’re in the office.”

Ciro ran down the hall and into the old office and library that had once been their father’s. Savio sat behind a mahogany desk in a leather armchair, bent over a laptop and a file folder of printed stock reports. “Spot. Something wrong?” they asked, getting up and coming around the desk.

“Y—no. I just wanted to say bye before I left.”

Savio chuckled and hugged Ciro gently. “Goodbye, Spot. Remember that you aren’t _that_ far away. You can walk into Night Vale and get a bus here if you so desire.”

“I know,” Ciro said, “but Ra was saying stuff.”

“That they hated us?”

Ciro nodded. “I’m kinda worried.”

Savio laughed. “Play your guitar. They’ll love you, I promise.” They released Ciro and stepped back. “Take care, Spot. Don’t get into any trouble.”

“I won’t.”

“Learn to play songs other than Wonderwall.”

“I already have.”

“Play songs other than Wonderwall once in a while.”

“I won’t.” Ciro grinned.

“Please?”

“No. Wonderwall’s the best song. Except Bohemian Rhapsody and I don’t know how to play that.”

“There’s something for you to learn.” Savio returned to behind their desk and picked up the file folder. “Risus is driving you down?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Your things are all packed?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Ra hasn’t scared you off?”

“He already did.”

“You’ll be fine. Go.” Savio made a shooing motion with their hand.

Ciro scampered out into the hall, tugging on their hoodie and grabbing up the guitar case. Those two things, at least, were exactly the same as they had been four years ago. “Risus, ready to go?”

“I’m waiting in the car!” Risus called from outside.

Ciro poked his head into the kitchen. “Bye, Ra. Try not to kill anyone.”

“No promises,” Ra said, not looking up from his phone.

Ciro ran out the door and slid into the shotgun seat. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s go.”

-O-

_Everyone thinks that we’re perfect_  
 _Please don’t let them look through the curtains_  
 _D O L L H O U S E_  
 _I see the things that nobody else sees…._

**Author's Note:**

> Song is D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E by Melanie Martinez. Permissions for the Sorriso family can be found in the chapter of History of Mondays dedicated to such things.
> 
> We've already met Smiles, as you may recall. Soon a new student shall show up to the Academy...


End file.
